All That Glitters...

All that glitters may not be gold, but in the Colorado high country at this time of year it's impossible to miss the spectacular harbinger of winter that is the changing of the Aspen. I grew up in the northeast where the fall colors are truly magnificent and nature's palette is far broader than the primarily gold that colors our mountainsides but all in all I'll take a crisp, cool fall day in Colorado staring at blazing gold trees anytime.

I have the luxury of being able to be in the high country when most folks are tied to their desks and am free to explore minus the crowds. The last couple of days I spent wandering the lower reaches of Independence Pass around the small hamlet of Twin Lakes. Every year it's anyone's guess as to when the Aspen colors will peak. Driving through Leadville I was afraid that I had missed the best of the Fall colors as the Aspen trees at the higher elevations seem to be past their prime but dropping down towards Twin Lakes the colors got brighter and more spectacular. Twin Lakes is the eastern portal to the road to Aspen over Independence Pass  and offers a spectacular juxtaposition of the deep gold color of the Aspen against the deep blues of the lakes with the backdrop of the mountains highlighted by our clear Colorado skies.

I drove to Denver on Friday and of course noticed the crowds of folks heading the oppposite way up I-70 on their weekend pilgrimage and know that the parking lots, pullouts, and trails will be mobbed at the most scenic spots. For those of you unwilling, or unable, to brave the crowded high country this weekend here is a sample of what this year's foliage show...

Pedal the Plains is all grown up

My wife and I have done several Ride the Rockies over the years so when the folks at the Denver Post added a new ride several years ago focused on the eastern plains we were intrigued. The Pedal the Plains ride started a lot smaller than its larger RTR cousin with a couple of hundred riders inundating small communities in the heart of Farmland, Colorado. Granted, Farmland, Colorado is not generally high on the list of vacation destinations but for three days in mid-September the chance to do some late season cycling on quiet rural (and generally flat!) roads was still attractive enough to get us off the couch and dust off the two-wheeled steeds.

This last weekend my wife Sophie rode this year's version starting out in Kersey (just east of Greeley) and then meandering on back roads to Keenesburg, Brush, and then back to Kersey. I opted to be lazy and do the sag duties which includes doing the hard work of sitting in an air conditioned car as I drive from town to town where I set up the tent. Being sag support is not something I've done before but for this trip thought I'd give it a try.

The 2017 Pedal the Plains, perhaps due to its close proximity to the Denver metro area, attracted over 1,000 riders so my wife was always in good company as she cruised the windswept prairie. The host communities really did a nice job of welcoming the riders and the meals, entertainment, and camping venues were very well planned. There was even a real lunch provided  on each day's ride at one of the rest stops, something they weren't offering the last time we did the ride. The weather held out with a little rain on the tent Saturday night but the morning overcast each day quickly burned off to feature the spectacular blue Colorado skies our state is famous for. Day Two featured a Century Plus option of riding 115 miles that attracted a lot of additional riders to come out just for that day's ride. Sophie opted for the 62 mile regular option which was probably wise as there were still Century Plus riders out on the course at 7 p.m. 115 miles is a huge accomplishment and kudos to those hearty riders but the three day riders who partook of this longer option were still facing the final day's 72 miles bright and early the next morning.

Fortunately the wind Gods smiled and on Sunday riders were treated to mostly tailwinds gently pushing them on towards their final destination of Kersey. At the finish line medals and hugs were handed out before the cycling horde climbed back into their four wheel behemoths and scattered to the four corners but I'll bet many of them are already looking forward to next year's version of a now very grown up Pedal the Plains.

Not all who wander...

Not all who wander are lost. And not all who wonder are crazy. One of the things I am finding I enjoy most about retirement is having the time to think about things I never had the time for when I was working. I've always been a wanderer at heart and I've come to find that the wandering of the mind is called wonder.

This last weekend I spent time camping, hiking, biking (and yes, wandering and wondering) in Goblin Valley State Park. Goblin Valley is about an hour southwest of Green River, Utah. For those who have been there you know what a special place it is. It was my first trip and I went specifically to film the rock 'Goblins' that abound in this secluded park. It's not a huge park but it makes up for its relatively small size by packing in a combination of great hiking, beautiful mountain biking trails, spectacular scenery, and at night a sky so full of stars it takes your breath away. In less than an hour one night I watched no fewer than ten satellites mosey across the starry backdrop only to be chased toward the horizon by the far faster, but more elusive, shooting stars. In the middle of this high desert with no city or even town lights to invade the show the night sky is not far different than it was for Native Americans gazing up five hundred or a thousand years ago. The park itself sits in a basin that millions of years ago was an inland sea and to the northwest the San Rafael Reef gives proof of a seashore where million-year old ripples lie frozen in time.

As I sat in my chair late into the evening gazing at the heavens Hurricane Irma was roaring across Florida after wreaking havoc across the Caribbean. Whether one believes in global warming or not most of the changes the earth goes through make a human lifetime less than a blink of geological time. The rocks around me, themselves once lapped by gentle waves of a bygone past, bore silent testimony of what can happen over enormous amounts of time. Even the starlight entering my wondering eyes was years old taking that long at the speed of light (186,000 miles per second) to reach me from those distant suns. They say the universe is expanding at a rate that means it will continue to expand forever. I wonder what it is like at the very edge of the universe; what is is our universe expanding into? If you were on the farthest star at this farthest edge and looked out, what would you see?

The Voyager spacecraft is man's most prolific wanderer now traveling beyond the sphere of our planetary system at a speed of a mere 40,000 miles per hour. I wonder what will happen to Voyager when it is as old as the rocks that stand mute about me. While I'll never wander a billionth the distance of this intrepid emissary of mankind in my wondering I'm looking back and waiting for Voyager to catch up. In the meantime, I've got a bike to ride...

With Apologies to the Boys of Summer...

Over in France at about this time of year there's a quaint group ride involving about 190 blokes who spend a quiet month taking a scenic pedal around France. Le Tour, as it is referred to rambles up Hill and dale for about 2,000 miles with average mileage of about 100-120 per day. My wife Sophie and I are spending 6 days covering 218 miles and with all due respect to the folks turning the pedals over in France we're perfectly happy with our little jaunt through the Black Hills.

We're back in Custer this afternoon having made it to Deadwood, which is the end of the Mickelson Trail, and then turning around yesterday with a 49 mile day back to Hill City.

Hill City welcomes
you with the
mother of all
benches

The trail definitely is more of a climb heading north so we are enjoying the downhill grades on the return journey. Deadwood is a gambling town, somewhat similar to Colorado's Black Hawk and Central City and the folks up there looked at us as if we were slightly crazy for having ridden non-motorized cycles to their town. Perhaps they know something and Sophie and I really are a little off kilter.

On one of the 18 mile-long climbs going into Deadwood I was passed by my first E-Bike with a little old lady slowly turning the pedals while her steed zoomed up the 3 percent grade at probably 20 mph. I've got to admit that I was a little conflicted. Technically the Mickelson bans all "motorized" vehicles and I'm not aware of a waiver for electric powered vehicles (are golf carts next?) but on the other hand the joys of the trail would likely be impossible for little old ladies, and anyone else, who doesn't have the physical ability to truly pedal the trail under their own power. I know some mountain bike races now have categories for E-Bikes but still it's going to take some getting used to hearing the quiet hum of these bikes blazing past us as they become more and more popular.

Sophie keeps asking me what my favorite thing about the trail is. I can't pick one segment as on each section there are parts that are absolutely wonderful along with a couple of patches that are just long, slow, hot grinds up, and then up some more until we reach the top of the hill. The trail also has a different feel to it heading south than it did north and there's a lot of scenery we hadn't noticed on the way to Deadwood.

As far as we've seen there is only one bike shop along the route. Rabbit Cycles in Hill City is a fully stocked shop run by 5 or 6 ladies (mothers and daughters I'm assuming) and much to my wife's joy they had all sorts of cute Mickelson Trail-inspired clothing and accessories. As if our BOB trailer wasn't heavy enough already we left Rabbit Cycles slightly more loaded than when we arrived. Surprise, surprise...

The long days see us in the saddle by 6 a.m. to beat the heat. And heat there is - talking with one of the South Dakota Parks staff at one of the trailheads he told us he hadn't seen it this hot, for this long, since he's lived here. Thanks much for sharing. Just like the Ride the Fault Line trip we did in June by 9 a.m. our jerseys are soaked through and we're drinking as much fluid as we can to keep up with our A.S.P. (astronomical sweat production). The good news is that with tomorrow's 44 mile ride back to Edgemont, the southern end of the trail, everyone tells us that the temps at that end of the trail are usually about 10 degrees warmer than the northern sections. As always with these rides it will feel weird to be off the bike and behind the steering wheel but certain parts of my anatomy are looking forward to sinking into a plush Toyota seat. The heck with E-Bikes, there's nothing like the quiet rumble of a V-6 engine in an air-conditioned minivan.

Out and About on the Mickelson Trail

Railroad enthusiasts know that the maximum grade for trains is about 3 percent and since the Mickelson Trail is a rails to trails route we knew that we'd be facing long steady climbs as we headed north out of Edgemont. And the trail lived up to that expectation. Coming from Colorado where folks brag about climbing mountain passes topping out at 10-12 thousand feet you'd think a miniscule 3% grade would hardly be even noticeable. And it wasn't for the first 10 or 20 miles. Past that the relentless nature of the continual climb up towards Custer slowly said "Hello!" and what with the 95 degree heat we were mighty glad to finally catch a short descent into Custer and the "Mile High Motel" which was home for the night. We like Custer a lot having visited several times before but the journey in via the Mickelson Trail was a first for us.

Folks say the Edgemont to Custer segment is perhaps the least scenic of the route but the first 16 miles climbing through Sheep Canyon was as pretty as anywhere we've ridden. The trailheads are scattered every 10-20 miles and are a welcome place to find water and restrooms as well as some welcome shade in the trailside shelters. Even though we were starting out on a Saturday we saw very few other cyclists in the 44 miles to Custer.

This morning we mounted up and headed over the hill from Custer to Hill City. This was a short day for us of only 15 miles which was fine as our legs and behinds were a little tender from yesterday's ride. Tomorrow we'll be out at the crack of dawn for the 50 miles to Deadwood which is the trail's northern end. There we'll turn around and repeat as we head back to Edgemont. There is limited camping along the trail and the motels are in the towns so there doesn't seem to be a good way to split the ride into true thirds so whenever we see a short day we know a long day is soon to follow.

The climb out of Custer is beautiful as it wanders through mountain meadows, pine forest, and stunning rock formations. Half of the distance to Hill City is climbing but at the top you are rewarded with a view of the Crazy Horse Memorial off to the right. From a distance the head and face is quite distinctive but the rest of the monument - the torso and horse - seem to have not progressed much in the last decade but that doesn't seem to deter the steady stream of cars headed up to see what there is to see. In all fairness there is an impressive museum and visitors center that is worth half a day if you're in the area but today we were looking forward to the 7 mile not-much-need-to-pedal descent so decided to save a revisit to the monument for another day.

Hill City, like Custer and the other towns in the Black Hills, is all about the tourists. Sophie has a special tie to Hill City as she has a teddy bear on display at the "World Famous", "Guiness Book of World Record-holding" Teddy Bear Museum. Of course, so do more than 10,000 other folks who have donated their own special teddy bear over the years. The stories behind some of the bears will likely bring you to tears so bring a hanky just in case. There's also a very talented chainsaw log carver who turns out carved bears, buffalo, mutant ninja turtles, and all sorts of other wooden critters while you watch. Sophie and I of course had more pressing business to attend to which is why I sit here lounging by the pool drinking lemonade and writing this blog.

Michelson Trail Here We Come...

Six hours out of Denver and you're in another world. The tiny hamlet of Edgemont, South Dakota is, as the locals might say, a fer piece from the hustle and bustle of the big city. That big city now stretches almost to the Wyoming border what with the pace of new development along the I-25 corridor but once you cross the border into Wyoming the pace becomes more sane and instead of tract homes and retail centers one sees mainly the wind-blown prairie. Though I'm sure Wyoming is undergoing its own modest growth only noticeable change Sophie and I see as we head north is that the speed limit has now been raised to 80mph from the 75 in Colorado. I'm dating myself but my first trip to Yellowstone was back in the Jimmy Carter years when the national speed limit was 55. On the way home that trip I received one of my first speeding tickets when the friendly folks of the Wyoming State Patrol nabbed me blistering down the road at a staggering 65mph. Of course in today's world everyone seems to tack on another 5-10 over the posted speed limit so in the great state of Wyoming 85-90 is the new norm.

Getting off the very well-beaten path of I-25 at Wheatland the road that beckoned took us on a meandering path through Lusk, WY and then to Edgemont where we're camped out at the Cowboy

Inn where Glenda, the manager, couldn't be friendlier if you'd known her for a lifetime. Such pure, open, welcoming friendliness sadly takes some getting used to for us city folks but I suspect that 'come on in, we're glad you're here' is the norm in these parts so Sophie and I will do our darndest to adjust. It's a tough life but hey.... Oh, and the rooms are clean and comfy, the AC is downright frigid compared to the scorching heat outside, so what more could we ask for.

Tonight we're packing the bikes and BOB trailer. Tomorrow at the crack of dawn we set off on the

George S. Michelson Trail for a 6 day jaunt to Deadwood and back. We'll pass through Custer, Hill City, and Rockford along the 109 mile path to Deadwood where we'll turn around and head back the way we'd come. It's not often we get to ride a trail both ways so we're looking forward to some leisurely 35-50 mile days in the saddle taking in the scenery of the Black Hills. So enough for one night, pardner, we'll catch up out along the dusty trail...

A Ride In the Woods

With apologies to Bill Bryson's beloved book "A Walk in the Woods" I humbly submit that right up there with a glorious stroll through Mother Nature is the chance to see her creations from the saddle of a mountain bike. I'm fortunate to spend a fair amount of time in the little town of Leadville, Colorado which offers extraordinary scenery as well as an abundance of ways to enjoy it on two wheels.

My wife is not a particular fan of mountain biking finding it sometimes physically and technically overwhelming to ride trails that routinely top elevations over 12,000 feet, grades of 15+ percent and sketchy descents that make you wish you'd brought a parachute.

Leadville hosts numerous challenging events through the summer, including the LT 100 MTB race that sees thousands of riders come to test their mettle riding hither and yon over some spectacular Rocky (emphasis on the rocky) Mountain terrain. This time of year the Leadville trails are still fairly quiet, especially mid-week and I truly love being able to enjoy them while not in a testosterone-induced frenzy. I've often wondered why there are not more organized mountain bike rides rather than races. I enjoy the chance to pit myself against my fellow competitors as much as the next guy (or gal) but slowing down to truly look around and smell the wild roses along the trail remain among my most cherished rides.

Last night I took a sunset ride along parts of the LT100 mountain bike and LT100 running routes but at a far more leisurely pace. For 24 miles I had the trail completely to myself. No cars, no people, just glorious trail leading me - no, pulling me, over the next rise in anticipation of what was around the next bend.

Mind you, to my wife's point, this wasn't the easiest of rides and I had to push, rather than ride, my two wheeled companion up some steep terrain but unlike in a race I made sure to stop and enjoy the views from the overlooks, to take in the contrast of the

green forest canopy against the blue Colorado sky, and take pictures to enjoy when the snows of winter come as I think back on this ride.

For those of you familiar with the Colorado high country you know that late June into July is the height of wildflower season and on last night's ride the sides of the trail were awash in the reds, whites, yellows, blues, and purples of thousands of flowers as far as the eye could see.

The LT100 mountain bike race doesn't happen until early August and sadly by the time those riders roll these same trails the flowers will be long gone. Perhaps that is just as well as who would even notice amidst the constant clamor of "On your left!". Dare to stop for 30 seconds to take a picture and a hundred riders would pass you by. But the images from this and other rides, taken at a far slower pace, are among those I'll cherish for a lifetime.